Untouchable
by Bustahead
Summary: Aizen/Ukitake Rated M, with yaoi warnings and noncon warnings! "Red and white has quickly become his favourite colour combination..." First Bleach fanfic and it had to be this. Yikes.
1. Chapter 1

**Untouchable**

When news spreads of Ukitake's latest attack, Aizen does not immediately rush to the captain's side. He never does. In the safety of his quarters, he plans. He knows that Ukitake will either be left in his own surroundings where he can recover in a familiar place, or he will be moved to a private room in the fourth division for a few nights, all the better for him to be cared for by the healers of Seireitei.

Aizen knows that by this point, the fourth division have reserved a room for the sickly captain, knows that some of the lower seats of the division have even started to refer to it as Ukitake'Taichou's room. He knows that the disease is slowly worsening, that the fits, once infrequent, are becoming more regular and more violent too.

But what Aizen takes great delight in, is knowing that no matter where Ukitake is left tonight, he'll be able to get to him without any fuss whatsoever.

He sits back, lowers his pen and closes his eyes. Yes, tonight will be a good night. After such attacks, Ukitake can barely move, can barely open his eyes or use his senses to feel what's around him. Aizen knows that when he arrives, Ukitake will either be fast asleep, or just lying there miserably with his eyes closed. He will not even know that he's there, he can't reach out with his reiatsu. He'll only know he's not alone when Aizen reaches out and touches him.

He is as helpless and weak as a newborn kitten and Aizen loves taking advantage of it, loves hearing Ukitake's barely audible mews for help. He loves feeling those fingers feebly curl against his chest in a weak show of protest, and when he thinks of Ukitake turning tear-filled eyes, confused eyes onto him, as if to ask him why, Aizen feels as if he could cum right on the spot.

But he doesn't. He never does.

Instead, he takes his time, draws it out for his own benefit. He plays Ukitake like an instrument, forcing little cries and gasps from him as he touches and teases. No one can hear, no one but him as he plucks out the song from Ukitake's body.

Aizen allows a smirk to cross over his face; somehow, no matter how exhausted the frail captain is, Aizen always manages to make him release into his hand. And afterwards, it only seems fair that Aizen gets his own reward.

Ukitake never has the strength to rock his hips, or clamp his legs around him. He doesn't have the strength to get up on all fours but Aizen makes it work, bounces Ukitake on his lap, holds his legs in place. And the entire time, Ukitake will whimper fitfully and shut his eyes, as if to tell himself that he's imagining this, that it's all some part of an awful nightmare.

At that point, Aizen usually shudders and Ukitake lets out a faint moan of distress as he realises he can't kid himself any longer.

Sometimes, Aizen wonders why the elder captain still bothers.

Sometimes, if he is lucky, his actions will bring about another coughing fit, giving Aizen more reason to linger. He loves watching as Ukitake struggles against himself, loves watching his chest heave with the effort of drawing gasping, laboured breaths in between hacking coughs. He watches, enchanted, as Ukitake trembles afterwards, his eyes watering, his teeth clenched.

But what he enjoys best is seeing the red staining the alabaster skin of his porcelain face.

Red and white has quickly become his favourite colour combination.

Aizen knows that such special, precious occasions call for an extra treat. He allows himself the pleasure of kissing Ukitake, knowing that the thirteenth captain is powerless to stop his tongue from plunging into his mouth, to stop him from tasting his blood. He won't make a sound as Aizen pulls away, can't kick out as Aizen starts to methodically clean him, violating him yet again. He is quick, but thorough, and by the time the lazy fourths come running to check on him, Aizen would be long gone, as well as any sign or _smell_ of his presence.

The best thing is knowing that Ukitake will never tell a soul about Aizen's nightly visits, not even his beloved Shunsui. There is no proof but even if there was, Aizen knows that Ukitake has pride, and that his shame will always cripple him.

He opens his eyes and picks up his pen, ready to start work once more.

So this is what it means to be untouchable, he thinks to himself, humming gently. He can do what he wants, thank to his zanpakuto's power, but he can also take who he wants. He realises that he is hard at the exact same point he hears a commotion outside his window. He gets up, thanking his voluminous robes for hiding his erection, and moves towards the window in time to see white hair and robes spread out on a stretcher. He hears familiar wheezing gasps for air and he twitches with arousal.

Tonight, he would play the role of visitor again...


	2. Chapter 2

**Blind**

Shunsui had always hated the idea of blindness. He supposes its ironic really, considering his affinity with shadows and his habit of twisting darkness into his dearest friend in battle.

But when he sees Tousen moving through each day without ever -seeing- what he's living for, what he's -fighting- for, he shudders and quickly turns away, telling himself that there is a huge difference between using the shadows as a mere cloak and having the entire world concealed from view thanks to a cruel twist of fate.

His lips move, twisting into a frown.

These past few years have forced him to wonder whether he's just as blind as the ninth division captain, if not more so.

After all, there's nothing worse that living with blindness than -choosing- to wilfully close your eyes and play pretend.

If he were to tell anyone that he considered Jyuu-chan to be his entire world, he wouldn't blame people for not believing him. He should have noticed a long time ago that things weren't quite right but he fooled himself, told himself it was the alcohol playing tricks on him, that it was all just part and parcel of Ukitake's illness, the strain of not having a second in command...

Excuses, all of it.

But the change had been so gradual. And then one day, Shunsui woke up and saw that a pale, frightened man had replaced his best friend without him even realising.

It was like he had suddenly opened his eyes properly, seen his world for what it had become, discovering that while he'd spents time in the shadows, hiding, the world had rotted.

The last gossamer threads of a most wonderful soul had been ruthlessly snapped and he'd been rendered utterly powerless to stop it because he'd been too stupid, too -slow- to notice.

Ukitake had always been sickly, but Shunsui had always told himself that his fragility somehow made the man even more exquisite, for lack of a better word. He had never hesitated to liken his beloved Jyuu-chan to a sublime piece of artistry.

But he'd turned his back for a second and someone had smudged him, -ruined- him. He'd never noticed enough to think that some serious restoration needed to be carried out. He still doesn't know whether it's too late to help him. He's tried to reach out, but Jyuushiro pulls away each time and Shunsui feels his heart constrict a thousand times over, unable to blame his friend and lover for being unable to trust him when he allowed things to get so far.

Now, as he watches Ukitake shiver and cry out in his sleep, still left completely in the dark as to the reason behind his friend's failing health, he wonders if he hasn't been blind all along.


End file.
